


Better Than Wine

by petpluto



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: F/M, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 02:56:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petpluto/pseuds/petpluto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s going to ask her what’s going on, feels the words forming on his lips, but she cuts him off before he can. Asking, “Just go with it, okay?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Than Wine

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Weevil asked if I could borrow him and Veronica for a little bit. I agreed.

He’s not sure what to expect when he sees Veronica walking toward him. She’s looking bashful instead of giving him the head-tilt he’s not so secretly vulnerable to, and he’s immediately on edge. Stands a little straighter. She’s not doing her usual gait either; she’s hesitant and meandering. He watches her the entire way. She stops, close enough to set him tingling. Far enough away that she can make a quick getaway.

He’s going to ask her what’s going on, feels the words forming on his lips, but she cuts him off before he can. Asking, “Just go with it, okay?”

He gives the slightest nod, and then her lips are on his. He gasps a bit, because really, who wouldn’t, and she uses that opportunity to slide in her tongue. He’s still not up on the plan, if there’s a plan, if she’s had a temporary leave of sanity, if she’s going to stab him, tase him, knee him in the balls. If this is some test he can never pass. When she sighs out and leans in further, he decides not to keep asking these questions he knows he’ll never get answers to and just slips an arm around her. Lightly. To gently cradle her waist, instead of trying to hold her to him. He’s seen what happens when people try to hold her to them. She slips through their grasp, melts away like the snowflakes he’s only seen on tv.

She presses closer, and he feels his grip tighten involuntarily. He doesn’t let himself panic. Doesn’t let himself worry about the second after this current one, even though he thinks he might be doing that anyway. He doesn’t try to look around, doesn’t try to do anything except kiss her back.

When she slides her arm around his neck, he loses all ability to care about what exactly is going on, except for a fleeting thought that he’s crossed into an alternate dimension of some kind where the blonde does end up on the back of his bike. He lets out a sharp moan, and wraps his other arm around her too, losing all pretense of not trying to keep her there, with him, in this moment. She shudders, and he’s afraid he’s lost her. But she just slips the hand not stroking his neck into his back pocket.

He slowly slides them around, blocking them from whatever view she maybe wanted someone to have of this, because this moment is his and hers and theirs alone. Leans her gently against the wall he’d been dozing on only minutes earlier, sweeps one hand up from her waist, dragging along her side, until he’s cradling her head. She whimpers into his mouth, swirls her tongue more. He wants to whimper, too, but instead he pushes forward, using his hand to pillow her, feels the brick scrape his knuckles as he pushes deeper into her, tries to pull her inside of him so he never loses her again.

He loses the moments. He’s not sure how a hand of hers got under his shirt, how his other hand moved from her waist and up and under her bra. He’s not sure why she’s letting him do this in public, when he sure as hell knows they’ve never done this in private. He’s not sure of anything, other than the fact that she tastes like sweetness, tastes better than the air on the outside, tastes better than any candy, anything man can make.

She pushes herself up and hitches a leg around his hip, and he breaks the kiss, this one kiss that has transmogrified into something a whole hell of a lot more, and breathes out, “You’re killing me, Mars.”

She gives a breathless chuckle, doesn’t open her eyes. He closes his again and rests his forehead on hers. Breathes out, heavily. Breathes back in again, almost more so. She tilts away, presses a soft kiss to his lips, and then another to the corner of his mouth. He opens his eyes and stares into blue. “No, really, what -”

“Don’t think,” she commands, asks, begs. “Please, just - don’t think. Don’t ask. Kiss me some more.”

He does. He’s never really been able to deny her anything, he figures. He doesn’t see the point in starting now. After a few more moments, cool down kisses, she’s the one to pull away. Gives the softest of giggles.

“Hi.”

“Hey, yourself,” he answers, amused and more than a little turned on. She blushes turns away from his eyes.

She weaves her fingers into his. Tugs him away from the wall. “Thank you, Eli.”

He grins. “No problem. Whenever you feel like doing that again, you know -”

“How about now?” She glances up at him, from beneath the long bangs he swears he doesn’t understand.

He stops, pulls on her hand. “Now?”

“Yeah.” She says it like she expects him to say no, like she expects him to pull away. Like she expects him to laugh at her, to scoff at her, to run her around. He slips in close again, sucks on her bottom lip, grinds against her.

“I think I told you, girl, I can make sure your body gets the full service treatment.” He grins against her cheek.

She blushes lightly, pushes gently against his chest. “Dork.”

He guffaws, he can’t help it. Everything feels right, for once, in the state of Neptune. And the fact he’s caught mid laugh by her lips just helps that along.


End file.
